


Away From You, I'm Never Far Away

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depressed Brian May, Depression, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Secret Admirer, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Freddie Mercury has a secret admirer.First, he gets love notes.Second, he gets flowers.Third, he gets chocolates.He's confused as to whom would be so infatuated with him to go to such lengths, but is nonetheless interested in knowing who.But Freddie hopes that it's Brian. Just a little bit.
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	1. First And Foremost

The day starts out ordinarily enough. 

Freddie wakes up, showers, dresses, and walks out of his respective bedroom just in time to say goodbye to Roger, who's going out with a 'girl friend' of his and says that he'll probably be late. Freddie wishes him luck and reminds Roger that charm, wit, and stunning good looks go a long way, and the younger man tells him that flattery will get Freddie nowhere. Freddie is a little perplexed as to why Roger is going out so early in the morning but says nothing about that matter, just waves his fingers in a version of a wave before making his way into the kitchen so he could feed the cats. They didn't have any recording scheduled for that day, which Freddie was inexplicably pleased with, and was content to spend his day in peace. But first, he had to feed the cats, and with Romeo and Delilah meowing noisily at his feet, Freddie opens the cupboard that held the cans of cat food and frowns at the little piece of paper lodged between two tins. It's an unexpected surprise, but Freddie cannot certainly say that it was unwanted, especially when he slid the paper out from its perch and looks at the neat, calligraphic writing. 

' _Whenever I walk into a room full of people, I always look for you first.'_

For a moment, Freddie debates about whom it could be. Usually, he might've brushed it off as a friendly little note to make his day better, but it didn't feel friendly. It felt like something more, a little hint in looping handwriting, that suggested more than just a friend who wanted to cheer another up. It reminded Freddie of the sort of cheesy little note he might've passed to a schoolmate as a child, if it had been allowed, of course. The memories brought a painful smile to Freddie's in remembrance before he focused back on the note. The handwriting wasn't familiar, which meant that either he didn't know the person who'd written it or the person had purposely changed how they wrote so as to not be discovered. Clever. 

Delilah meowed and pawed at Freddie's leg, obviously hungry. Brought back into reality, Freddie pocketed the note, bent, and gently rubbed her soft fur. "Sorry, darlings. It's just such an odd thing, who would write that?" Freddie said in an apologetic tone. He often found himself talking to the cats, despite knowing that they didn't understand a word of what he was saying. Freddie got their food and water, cooing at them adoringly as he did so. The cats were his children, and nobody could convince him to say otherwise. Freddie loved them, and just seeing their wide eyes could make even a heart of stone melt under such intense cuteness. "Who do you think this could be?" Freddie asked, pulling out the piece of paper again, smoothing out the slight creases that had gathered. Romeo looked up and meowed in response, flicking his tail. There was a possibility that this was just a friendly note, and maybe it just came across as more than it was to Freddie, who longed for his hopes to be true. 

The sound of the door opening jolted Freddie out of his thoughts, and he stood just in time to see John appear, looking behind exhausted. He had gone out for a run because Roger had said that it'd help him he more focused.

"I'm never listening to Roger again." John immediately said. "That bastard tricked me. Halfway through I had to sit down and do breathing exercises. He knew what would happen, probably just wanted me to suffer." John shook his head and sat down at the table, wiping his forehead tiredly. 

Freddie was sympathetic. "That sounds horrible. Though, to be fair, you did call Roger a 'pea-brained crouton' the other day, so maybe his revenge is well-deserved." He did, however, fill a glass with water and hand it to John, who nodded in thanks. Freddie debated with himself over whether he should bring it up or not, but decided that now was as good a time as any and showed John the little slip of paper. "Do you know who wrote this, dear? I found it next to the cat food." Freddie explained, watching as John inspected the letter for a minute before handing it back.

"No. That's sweet, though. Fred's got his own little secret admirer." John teased, taking a sip of his water and then grimacing. "Ugh, I hate tap water." He complained. Freddie laughed a little bit as he started walking away.

"As I've said before, Deaky, there is only room for one of me in this group." He said over his shoulder, getting a predictable chuckle in return. 

But even so. If it wasn't Deaky, then who was it? Roger or Brian, or perhaps somebody else? 

Either way, the note was cute. It made Freddie's heart jump every time he glanced at the neat letters, and a smile curled at his lips as he re-read it yet again. So long as it didn't become creepy, Freddie supposed that it was a nice little treat. Besides, this could be the on!y one. 

And so, Freddie resolved to cherish it. 

Later that day, Roger and Brian returned together, the latter from having gone exploring the observatory (and was now excitedly rambling about how empty it was, how abandoned, and how perfect it was for him to see the stars) and Freddie looked up from where he'd been stirring his tea. John had went to go take a shower, and the cats were napping on the couch, curled close. "Hello, you two." Freddie greeted. "If I'd have known that there would be more people, I would've made more tea." 

Roger looked startled, having not noticed the singer. "That's alright, I think I'm too hungry to have tea anyways." He said. Brian paused to give him an odd look. "I know, weird, huh?" With that, Roger walked foward the refrigerator.

Freddie waited until Roger was seated with a sandwich, and hurried to say something before Brian could go disappear into his room. "Just a moment, please." He requested, and Roger, his mouth full, grunted curiously.

Brian turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "What's wrong, Fred?" He asked. 

Digging into his pocket, Freddie retrieved the paper and held it out to be examimed. "Did either of you two leave this? Or perhaps find one of your own?" He questioned. Roger leaned over and grabbed it, holding it close to read it while Brian peered over his shoulder.

"That's weird, and a little creepy." Roger said. Freddie frowned and took the paper back.

"What's so creepy about it? I think it's cute." He said, slightly offended that his friend would think such a thing.

Roger shrugged and picked up his sandwich again. "If somebody likes you, then they should just come out and say it. Leaving notes just seems so stalkerish. What do you think, Bri?" 

Brian pursed his lips thinly, as he was prone to do when thinking. "I don't know. Maybe they just don't know how he'll react." He said softly, "Or they're just shy." 

Roger hummed. "Maybe. _Or,_ it's a stalker." 

Freddie looked back at the paper. He didn't think it was creepy, just very sweet. "Have you asked John?" Brian asked.

Freddie nodded, and took a small sip of his tea. "He doesn't know where it came from." He replied. 

For a second, they all just looked at each other, similarly curious as to whom had written the note. And then Brian left, saying he wanted to go take a nap, and John appeared, demanding to know why Roger had lied to him so, and Freddie, before he went to go play peacemaker for his relatively hot-headed friends, swore to himself that he'd find his secret admirer. 

No matter what. 


	2. Questionable

The next day, Freddie woke up to another note. 

It's on his bedside table, folded neatly in half, and shoved under the lamp to keep it from falling. It hadn't been there when he'd gone to sleep, and the idea of somebody creeping into his bedroom to put the note there was a tad bit creepy, Freddie would admit, but he was still hanging strong to the possibility that it was just maybe a shy person with a romantic streak. ' _Brian's shy.'_ Freddie thinks, and then he pushes that thought away because, among other things, Brian was straight and didn't like men in that way. To Brimi, Freddie was just a friend, and the singer could make peace with that. He'd rather have this friendship than nothing at all.

Reaching out, he grabbed the paper and unfolded it. 

' _Roses are red, Tulips can be white. You, Fred, are a wonderful sight.'_

A twist on the classic. Freddie looked up at the closed door and wondered who could've out of there. It had to have been somebody in their close circle to have been able to get into their flat and, without being suspicious enough or unfamiliar enough to attract attention. The most likely suspects were other people in the band, but either they had become better liars, or it was somebody else. Paul? No, he wouldn't be doing this. Freddie slipped out of bed and put the paper with the other note, inside one of his dresser drawers, safe and sound. 

He showered and dressed, brushed his teeth, and as he stood in front of the mirror trying to figure out the best way to comb his hair, Freddie thought about it again. Could the admirer be a woman? Oh, he hoped not. 

Freddie set down the comb, considered himself in the mirror again, and walked out of his room. There was little he could do besides ask around and keep an eye out, but maybe it would be better to just let it happen. Freddie wanted to know, and didn't like the feeling of not knowing, but also didn't want to scare whoever it was off. Especially if it was Brian, even if the chance of the guitarist being the one behind the notes was incredibly slim. 

The only other person in the kitchen when Freddie walked out of his bedroom was Roger, and he was asleep, his head resting on his hand and snoring. Seeing the drummer, asleep at the kitchen table, was a humorous sight, and Freddie took extra care to be quiet as he started preparing some toast for breakfast. They had rehearsal today, and they all were very stressed lately, with too little sleep and too much worry. 

Grabbing the marmite from the cupboard, Freddie looked back at Roger and debated about if he should wake him up for breakfast. Not wanting to awaken his friend up yet, Freddie decided not to. He spread the marmite and sat back down at the table, reaching out and grabbing the newspaper that Roger had, presumably, been reading before he fell asleep. 

It was the same old, same old. Freddie had finished his pieces of toast before he'd even finished the article that he'd settled on reading and just put the paper back where he found it as he took his plate to the sink. He heard the door open, but it was only when a figure walked past his line of sight did Freddie turn around. "Are you serious right now? Asleep, at the bloody table?" John said, exasperated, swinging his arms around. 

Freddie shushed him. "Be quiet, Deaky. He deserves his sleep." 

John sighed. "I know. _But the table?"_ He shook his head, walked foward, and bent down so lightly shake Roger awake. "Rog, it's time to wake up, we need to get to rehearsal." He shook him a little bit harder. 

Opening his mouth to tell John to leave Roger alone, Freddie looked at the clock and realized that they only had twenty minutes to get to the studio, in what would ordinarily be a thirty minute drive. With that realization, Freddie looked outside at the dreary, overcast sky and sprinted to his room to retrieve his shoes and jacket. "Wake up, Roger!" He yelled when the drummer only let out a sleepy mumble. 

Startled, Roger awoke...and immediately stood. "What time is it?" He asked, and John started to smooth out his wrinkled shirt like a worried mother hen.

"Twenty minutes till late." John said, just as Freddie reappeared, looking quite undignified as he tried to get his shoes on and pull his jacket on at the same time. 

Freddie cleared his throat and smoothed down his hair, trying to gather his dignity. "Where's Brian?" He asked, watching as Roger tried to find his own jacket. 

John grabbed the keys to the flat. "He's already there, and if we don't get a move on, then our album will just have this lonely little guitar playing." 

\---

Brian was practically in hysterics by the time they show up at the studio, wet and frantic. He looked at each one of them and immediately became sympathetic, retrieving spare blankets that had been stored in the studio by Freddie because there had been tendencies to spend entire nights in there, recording and falling asleep after hours at a time of working tirelessly. John gratefully took a blanket with a nod. "Thanks. Believe it or not, we took a taxicab here. I knew I should've let you go instead." He said, scrubbing at his hair before wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. 

Paul stood off to the side, tapping his foot impatiently. "You know, five minutes late still counts as late." 

"Oh, give us a break." Roger sighed. He was somehow the least soaked of the group, and was currently trying to squash his blanket into a ball. "You're not on time ever day, consecutively." He reminded Paul, who scowled.

Hurrying to defuse the bomb before it went off, Brian grabbed John's arm and squeezed it pointedly in warning. "Why don't we go get the equipment set up?" He said, already dragging the other man off into the distance. 

John huffed, "Why don't we have people to do this for us?" 

Watching them go, Freddie turned back to Paul. "Bad day?" He guessed, and the manager rolled his eyes, turning away and walking toward where his chair was. 

"Don't play dumb. Who's been sending you little notes like we're in primary school again?" 


	3. Say So

"How in the hell do you know about that?" Roger blurt out before Freddie could say anything, his voice higher-pitched than it should've been. "Have you been snooping?" He accused angrily. 

Paul, to his credit, looked more than a little offended at the question, but then his eyes darkened and his scowl set into place. "No, for your information. Even though it's none of your business, really. I found this little-" Paul dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, looking more than a little proud of himself. Freddie couldn't help but roll his eyes. "-piece of evidence. So sweet." He briefly read the piece of paper and scoffed. "Whoever it is said that you had _such_ a lovely smile." 

Brian visibly winced and John looked between everybody, probably trying to figure out if he should jump in now or later. Freddie felt touched by the note, and wondered if that lovely note-writer was among them. "That's nice. Give me it, please." Freddie held his hand out, but Paul didn't let go of it. In fact, he seemed to hold onto it even tighter. It infuriated Freddie. 

"No, no, no. We've been apart for just a few months and you've already got a paramour?" Paul said with a snarl. 

Brian stepped foward. "A paramour is the lover of a married person, typically." He said quickly. It was very rare for him to interrupt conversations, and everybody was a little startled to hear him speak up, especially since this was quickly escalating into an argument. 

Paul waved him off. "Stay out of it, May. This doesn't concern you, last time I checked." He said. "So what is it, Freddie? Who's writing these notes?" It was like he couldn't let go of what had long been destroyed.

Freddie stared at him with narrowed eyes. Anger was rising up within him quickly. "You're such a jealous person. Is it to make up for you truly pathetic you are?" Freddie snatched the paper, risking the possibility of tearing it before whirling around. "Now, let's get started them, shall we?" Rehearsal couldn't be forgone just because Paul was a bastard. Everybody sort of nodded, not wanting to get involved with a notoriously sharp temper, even though Freddie would never take it out on them. With narrowed eyes, Paul stood and walked out of the room, his shoes thudding throughout the room. 

Figures, Freddie supposed, that Paul would try to ruin this for him. It was typical, really. But he was determined not to let Paul tear apart whatever this was, and as he tucked the paper safely into his pocket, he vowed not to let him take away this happiness. Whoever was writing these were leagues better than anything that Paul has ever done for him. 

Everybody gathered to their respective spots. It was all routine, except something felt distinctly different, but nobody quite knew why. 

Except maybe one of them. And were determined to keep that secret for as long as possible.

\---

"Fred?" 

The sound of Brian's voice, soft and questioning, sent Freddie whirling around to look at the guitarist, who was standing nervously at the threshold of his door. "Hello, Brimi." Freddie said. Once again, he wondered if Brian was the one behind the notes, but again rejected the idea. It was too hopeful, after all. "Do you need anything?" 

Brian shifted uncomfortably, playing with his hands. "I just wanted to let you know that you do have a really nice smile." He said, quickly, before smiling gently and walking away, leaving Freddie to look after him, heart thudding loudly in his chest. 


End file.
